


Drawn

by cilepe



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cilepe/pseuds/cilepe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What has drawn Christine to Spock's door in the middle of the night?<br/>Set after the events of Amok Time and Return to Tomorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawn

It started with her just being vaguely irritable. Then there were sleepless nights tossing and turning. That was followed by the feeling of being just slightly too hot though her body temperature was completely normal.

It culminated with Christine finding herself outside Spock's door in the middle of the night. She supposed 'sleepwalking' was the closest description she could find for how she'd arrived here. She hadn't decided to come nor did she remember the walk. Nevertheless, she was here, staring at the buzzer.

The decision was taken out of her hands when the door slid open. Spock was on the bed, propped up on his elbows, looking at her with a piercing expression. "Miss Chapel."

Christine felt like she was being pulled inside. "Please, Spock. It's Christine."

"Christine," he repeated in a husky voice.

She stopped at the doorway that sectioned off the sleeping area. "Spock, I—I don't know what made me come here. I just know that I had to."

"Yes." His voice was still lower and rougher than usual. He drew himself into a sitting position. "Come closer. Please. Christine."

It was the use of her name that finally drew her forward and made her sit down on the bed in front of him. She fixed her blue eyes on his face, curious, a little afraid—after all, the last time this sort of thing had happened, he'd nearly died. And thrown soup at her. And fought the captain in a battle to the death.

"There is no need to worry. None of those things shall happen this time."

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "How—how did-?"

"I am not entirely sure why we have become linked. I would theorize it has some connection to the time you carried my consciousness."

"Linked? How do you mean linked?" She was puzzled, but not displeased. Not displeased at all.

Spock bowed his head for a moment. It was no easier to discuss now than it had been with the captain. "Vulcans experience several different types of mind-to-mind contact. The simplest is a mind meld. Its significant feature is that it is temporary. Beyond that, there are familial bonds, which are life-long connections between parents and their offspring. It is usually nothing more than a general sense of each other's well-being." He paused again, choosing now to meet Christine's eyes. "The deepest and most important bond of a Vulcan's life is the one he shares with his bond-mate. It begins as a fairly simple connection that will draw a Vulcan and his prospective mate together as the Pon Farr approaches." He waited to see if she could follow his explanation.

Christine pursed her lips. "So you believe that because I carried your consciousness, we now have this basic link. And it's just acting up now because..." Her eyes widened. "Isn't it too soon?"

Spock nearly shrugged. "The normal cycle is once every 7 years. I cannot explain why it is different in my case."

"How can you be sure it won't...be like last time?"

"Because you are here. Christine." He reached out slowly and traced her jaw with one finger. "If you choose it. I will not force you."

Christine closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "Spock, I-"

"I do not want you to decide now, Christine. I do not wish you to make choices when you do not have all the data. My reluctance to share before nearly killed the captain. Look at me, Christine, please."

He locked eyes with her for a long moment. "There is still time. I regret I cannot be precise as to how much time before I require an answer. But you shall know all I know before you choose your course of action." He pulled his hand away and rested it lightly on his knee. "I wish to perform a mind-meld. It will allow you to gain the knowledge you need quickly."

"Aren't—aren't they rather dangerous?" Christine didn't like that she didn't know much about the facts of a process Spock wound up using rather frequently.

"If performed improperly they can be. I shall take utmost care with you," he said reassuringly.

She nodded. "Alright. I'm ready."

Spock placed his fingers on her psi-points. "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts..."

Christine felt nothing at first until suddenly it was as if she was drowning in a vast ocean of thoughts, emotions, and knowledge, all of which wasn't hers. She did the first thing that came to her; she latched onto the first thought she clearly recognized and held on for dear life, focusing on it, examining it, understanding it, blocking out everything else.

She felt rather than heard Spock compliment her. "Most humans do not cope so well with a first experience. I shall guide you now."

Christine released the thought she'd been clinging to and followed as Spock walked her through a labyrinth. She'd always suspected he felt things keenly and simply buried the responses and now she knew she was correct. She smiled as they passed what appeared to be rooms. They were identical, but as they passed, she could sense which one was unmistakably McCoy and which was Kirk.

He stopped. "Here. We will remain as long as you feel it is necessary. Ask any question you wish and I will answer."

She felt his presence withdraw slightly, as if leaving her alone in a library full of books and record tapes to research at her leisure. Rather than attempt to pick up bits and pieces, Christine stood still and let everything she saw wash over her, fill her mind, and then she began processing. Though Spock had extensive knowledge of the customs and ceremonies involved, much of what filled his mind was clearly the construct of imagination. She couldn't help but suspect Spock might consider it darker than it actually was—after all, he had only his previous experience to go on and that had been aborted. There was plenty of time to worry about that.

What was intriguing her now was the surfacing concept of the marital bond. Human relationships were transient in comparison. The wife well and truly held her husband's life in her hands. If she refused to come to him during his time, he would die. And, though rare, it did happen. Some, though bonded, did not have an accompanying emotional attachment and merely came together for the duration of the Pon Farr and then separated again. That idea was distasteful to Christine.

There were also images of Spock's parents. Christine could feel the overall warmth Spock emanated regarding his mother. She could also feel the chill that surrounded his memories of his father. She filed the knowledge away. There would be another time for that.

_ I think I'm ready, Spock. _

Slowly, she felt herself return to reality. The dry heat of Spock's quarters, the gentle touch of his fingers on her face, the scent of incense, all served to ground her. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and found Spock looking at her intently.

"I really only have one question. Well, it might be more than one question, but it all revolves around one theme. How do you feel about me, Spock?" She could try to narrow it down, but she didn't want him to try to tell her what she wanted to hear.

He didn't take his eyes off her. "It is a fair question. I admit, my current feelings are somewhat clouded. But there is much I admire about you, Christine. And the more I come to learn, the more I come to admire. I do not believe I have experienced love as you would define it, but if that is what concerns you, it is my belief that love does not spring up spontaneously. It is cultivated and grown. I do not doubt that I will love you. I already care for you deeply."

She tilted her head slightly. That wasn't exactly the answer she'd hoped for, but it was honest. "If I accept and we...what happens afterward?" Her greatest fear was giving Spock so much of herself and then being discarded until she was needed again. "I won't just be the person you use to scratch an itch."

"No, I would not expect that of you. I do not desire such an arrangement, either. We would be together, in whatever sense you desire."

She bit her lip, turning over in her mind everything he had just told her. "I'm not saying I will refuse, but if I did—what would happen to you?" It wasn't that she didn't know—she'd seen some rather horrible things in his mind; she just needed to hear him say it out loud.

He tensed. "If we were close enough to Vulcan, I would go there. Perhaps another mate could be procured for me, perhaps not. If not, I would die. If we could not reach Vulcan, I would die."

She didn't want Spock to die. She didn't want him to be with anyone else, either, biological needs or no. She did want him very much to herself. She loved him. Being human, she wanted him to feel the same way before they moved forward. But it wasn't fair to apply human standards to someone who was half-Vulcan and who had been brought up completely Vulcan. "Yes, Spock."

He wasn't sure she meant it. "You must be certain, Christine. Do not act rashly."

Christine took his hand in both of hers. "I'm a little bit better acquainted with myself than you are, Spock. When I say yes, I mean it. I love you, Spock, and this is what you need me to do. We'll make it work."

 

 


End file.
